


the people you realize are your family;

by unintentionallyangsty



Series: let all be quiet (in your head); [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor: Ragnarok (2017) - Fandom
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Big Brother Thor (Marvel), Bonding, Brodinsons, Brotherly Affection, Codependency, Communication, Crying, Disassociation, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Fever, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Late Night Conversations, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), Loki Lives (Marvel), Men Crying, New Asgard, Panic Attacks, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Protective Thor (Marvel), Sick Loki (Marvel), Sickfic, Thor is a Good Bro (Marvel), Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 01:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30064677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unintentionallyangsty/pseuds/unintentionallyangsty
Summary: When Loki falls ill the evening before he and Thor are set to leave town to attend a meeting essential to the growth of New Asgard, Thor quickly determines that he is left with only one option;Take the Valkyrie with him instead, and leave Loki under the care of Bruce Banner.Which might have been a perfect solution, were either party involved willing, or particularly happy about the situation.As it turns out, neither are.(Angst/Fluff Prompts #8 and #31: "Here, let me help you." / "Calm down.")
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Brunnhilde | Valkyrie, Bruce Banner & Loki, Bruce Banner & Thor, Loki & Thor, Loki & Thor (Marvel), The Revengers - Relationship
Series: let all be quiet (in your head); [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116422
Comments: 23
Kudos: 105





	the people you realize are your family;

**Author's Note:**

> Loki & Bruce Banner. Takes place in New Asgard. Loki is alive and Infinity War has decidedly Not happened.
> 
> written for the Angst/Fluff Prompts #8 and #31: "Here, let me help you." / "Calm down." 
> 
> **story warnings !! :** descriptions of illness, vomiting, panic attacks, and mentions self-harm and disassociation. please take care of yourselves!
> 
> (again, brief reminder that each story within this series is unrelated/non-linear. unless otherwise stated, this is a series of unrelated one-shots and nothing more. enjoy!)
> 
> (also this kind of deviates from the series description but also?? fits. also also i love Bruce and have been wanting to write something similar to this since i started writing for the mcu so !)

The minute Bruce was jarred awake by the sound of someone pounding insistently on his front door, he knew something was wrong. 

With a small groan, he sat up, and took a moment to assess the situation before he actually moved to stand, despite the continued urgency of the noise. 

It couldn’t have been Thor or Loki knocking, he considered somewhat blearily, as they had been set to head out for Oslo that morning with plans to attend a diplomatic conference, in order to seal a trade deal that had been months in the making. 

The Valkyrie, then, had likely already found herself with a list of duties too lengthy to handle alone, and was there to request (read: demand) his help. 

As if to confirm the suspicion, the next knock at the door was loud enough to nearly rattle the floorboards, and Bruce groaned again before turning to swing his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Alright!” he called, and stood to cross the small space between his bed and the door. “Coming!” 

Bruce’s cabin was not large, given that he spent a majority of his time hopping between Tony’s New York tower and New Asgard, and it took him only a few sleepy strides before he reached the door at the other end of the room. 

“Coming.” he repeated on a somewhat tetchy murmur when, even as he reached for the doorknob, the knocking continued. 

“Val, what--” 

Bruce felt the words die on his tongue when he swung the heavy door open before him to reveal not the Valkyrie, but Thor stood on the other side, his brow furrowed and hands tangled together before him as he eyed Bruce anxiously. 

“Thor?” Bruce shook his head slightly in bewilderment. “I--I thought--”

“I need your help.” Thor interrupted, his expression uncharacteristically grave. 

At the words, Bruce felt his stomach sink slightly, though one look at the way Thor was almost timidly biting at his lip, as if fearful that Bruce would refuse, had him nodding hastily. 

“Lead the way.” he replied, and, when Thor’s features cleared in obvious relief, prayed he wouldn’t regret the decision. 

\---

Though Bruce made a few efforts to prod him into conversation, Thor remained worryingly silent as he had led Bruce across the short distance between Bruce’s house and his own-- a fact that did little to quell the anxiety churning within the pit of Bruce’s stomach as they walked. 

When they reached their destination, however, Thor slowed to a halt just before the front door, and hesitated briefly before turning to face Bruce was an almost apologetic grimace on his face. 

“My friend,” he began, far too solemnly for Bruce’s liking. “You know I would not ask this of you if I thought I had any better option.” 

Before Bruce could reply to that (before he could even think of _how_ to reply to that), Thor turned again, and inhaled deeply before reaching out to open his front door--

To reveal Loki, stood in the dead center of the living room clutching what looked like a backpack, and facing the door with wide, almost startled eyes. 

Bruce would have considered that he looked almost _guilty_ , had he thought Loki capable of such an expression, before Loki’s posture abruptly shifted, and he lifted his chin in an obvious challenge. 

“No.” he spat, and jerked his head in one sharp movement. 

“Loki!” Thor cried, tone a mixture of scolding and blatant worry, and surged forward to enter the space, his hands immediately coming up to grip both of Loki’s elbows gently. 

“I’m not letting you go alone.” Loki argued immediately, though he seemed unable to quite meet Thor’s gaze head on. “I’ll not be resigned to just _sitting_ here, and--” 

“We’ve discussed this.” Thor interrupted with obvious gentleness. “I’m not going alone.” 

“You might as well be.” Loki snapped. “I’m the one who’s been working through the deal. You don’t--”

“And Val has been working with you almost every step of the way.” Thor countered evenly. 

At the words, something like dread began to tighten within the space between Bruce’s ribs, as the various pieces of the situation began to fall into place within his mind. He forced himself to remain quiet, however, and awkwardly continued to hover in the doorway as he watched Thor raise a rand to rest it gently on the side of Loki’s neck. 

“She knows what she’s doing.” Thor murmured, almost too low for Bruce to hear. “And you need to rest.” 

Oh. Bruce registered, distantly, and watched as Loki opened his mouth to argue, only to break off and hastily raise an arm to cough wetly into it. 

_Oh_. 

It was only then that Bruce noticed the obvious flush of Loki’s cheeks, and the way his hand trembled minutely as he raised it to scrub irritably at one fever bright eye. 

“I will not be left here to be watched after like some--some infant incapable of looking after itself.” Loki growled and, though his gaze remained unwaveringly on Thor, Bruce fought the urge to take a step back at the words. 

“Brother,” Thor warned, his thumb running soothingly along Loki’s jaw. “I ask that you grant me this one request.” 

“I’m _fine_.” Loki protested immediately and, though his reluctance seemed obvious, he shook himself out of Thor’s hold and took a step back. “I can--” 

Abruptly, he cut himself off, and swallowed thickly before paling dramatically and beginning to sway in place. 

As if having anticipated the motion, Thor took a quick step forward to grasp his brother’s elbows, again. 

“What was that about being ‘fine’?” he questioned, though the teasing note was nearly lost beneath the worry clouding his tone as Loki nearly fell against him. 

“I’m not a child.” Loki muttered petulantly. 

“And yet you insist upon acting like one.” Thor countered easily. 

Thor paused, then, and glanced over his shoulder to meet Bruce’s eye briefly, before he turned his full attention back to where Loki was continuing to study the floor between them, the slightly greasy curls falling into his face nearly obscuring his mulish expression. 

“He is only here because I asked it of him.” Thor continued, gently. “He will not impede upon your privacy. I just--” 

Thor sighed heavily, and leaned forward to rest his forehead gently against Loki’s own. 

“I don’t want you to be alone.” he murmured. 

Something about Loki’s expression spasmed slightly at the words, though he bit his lip forcefully a moment later. 

He did not, however, draw away, and instead seemed to pressed slightly closer before murmuring, “I’m not that ill.” 

To Bruce, it seemed that Loki was likely feeling significantly iller than he was letting on, if he was admitting to being ill, at all. 

Nevermind allowing himself to display such an open and easy acceptance of Thor’s affections while fully aware of Bruce’s presence. 

It seemed that Thor felt similarly, if the slight frown marring his features was anything to go by. 

“You’re burning up.” he pointed out, and shifted so that his cheek was pressed to Loki’s brow, one hand coming up to rub soothingly between his brother’s shoulder blades. 

In reply, Loki simply muffled another series of coughs behind his elbow, his forehead creased in obvious discomfort. 

“I don’t need a--a keeper.” he rasped, when he had finished, and drew back slightly to study Thor through distinctly hazy eyes. 

“I--I really won’t be doing much.” Bruce ventured, and finally managed to take a step further into the room. “Just kind of sticking around.” 

If the way Loki startled slightly at the sound of his voice, before hastily wriggling fully out of Thor’s embrace, was any indication, he had nearly forgotten that Bruce was there, entirely. 

If he was that confused, Bruce considered, he was likely sicker than Bruce had considered initially. The thought was not a comforting one, and Bruce quickly tucked the information away for later evaluation when Loki turned a weak glare on him. 

“You needn’t be here at all.” he sniffed with an obvious air of dismissal. “I am well.” 

“Loki,” Thor warned.

“Look,” Bruce cut in, and took another step forward even as Loki averted his gaze to study somewhere over Bruce’s shoulder, his cheeks flushed. “I’m really just staying here as a favor to Thor. I won’t bother you if I don’t absolutely need to. You won’t even know I’m here!” he concluded with forced cheer. 

The silence that followed the declaration stretched on for so long that Bruce began to fight the urge to fidget uncomfortably, and exchanged a wary glance with Thor as Loki crossed his arms and visibly bit the inside of his cheek. 

“Do as you wish.” he dismissed, at last, before turning on one heel to begin tottering unsteadily toward the door to his bedroom. 

The blatant relief on Thor’s face, however, was almost enough to make Bruce believe that his agreement to stay was worth it. 

Almost. 

\---

Despite Loki’s reluctant agreement, it still took Thor the better part of the following hour to coerce his brother into his own bedroom (insisting he would be more comfortable there), and get him settled comfortably while Bruce oscillated uncertainly in the kitchen. 

By the time Thor finally exited the room, duffel bag in hand, the Valkyrie had already arrived, and had spent the last several minutes leaning against the kitchen table with her arms crossed, eyeing the doorway to the bedroom impatiently. 

Nevertheless, it took only one look at Thor’s forlorn expression for her to relax minutely, and she extended a hand to grip Thor’s arm lightly when he entered the room. 

“He’s gonna be fine.” she reminded. “But we really do need to get a move on.” 

Thor’s brow furrowed slightly further at the words, though, after another quick glance over his shoulder, he nodded slightly in acknowledgement. 

“He’s finally resting.” he addressed Bruce, then. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he was asleep within the hour. He didn’t get much sleep, last night.” 

As if to confirm the words, a series of muffled sounding coughs came from the bedroom, and Thor grimaced slightly at the sound. 

“Perhaps I--” 

“You need to go.” Val interrupted firmly. “They expect to see the ‘King of New Asgard’, and I doubt I could swing the deal by myself.” 

“I have your number.” Bruce reminded, if only to rid Thor of his blatantly miserable expression. “And I’ll call or text if anything changes, but it sounds pretty much like a simple flu, to me.” 

It wasn’t a lie. From the symptoms Thor had listed out for him earlier (moderate fever, achiness, wet coughs, and some nausea), Bruce couldn’t determine that Loki had come down with anything more than a seasonal bug. 

Nevermind the fact that it was a somewhat unusual time of the year for it. According to Thor, Loki had always done poorly in warmer climates. And though it had been a mild summer, at best, Bruce was willing to chalk the situation up to this fact, combined with whatever weird, alien biology Loki harbored. 

For a moment following Bruce’s words, Thor was silent, his expression pensive, before he nodded reluctantly again. 

“Get him to eat something, if you can.” he instructed, and raised a hand to rub swiftly at his nose with a small sniff. “He won’t like it, but there’s soup in the cupboard he’ll probably be able to stomach.” 

Bruce nodded, though the words were less than encouraging. “Okay.” 

“When he wakes, he might be confused.” Thor continued, even as Val began to use her grip on his arm to steer him out the door. “His nightmares get worse, when he’s ill. Remind him where he is.” 

“Right.” Bruce waved a hand in a sort of awkward half wave as casually as he could manage, given the trepidation he could feel expanding within his gut. “Got it.” 

“And make sure he drinks water.” Thor added hastily. “And call me if you need to!” 

“Alright, the babysitter’s got his notes.” Val cut in dyly, when they reached the door. “We need to _go_ , Highness.” 

At the words, it seemed that Thor was ready to bolt back to the bedroom, keyed up and tense as he was, and his gaze flickered briefly between Val and the door. 

Then, he deflated somewhat with a weary sigh, before he squared his shoulders determinedly and reached for the knob to the front door. 

“We have a dinner tonight, and the meeting is tomorrow morning.” he told Bruce, “We should be back within the next few days, if all goes well.” 

“Hope it does.” Bruce replied, and forced a small smile onto his face until Thor offered one final nod, and turned to exit the house entirely, leaving Val and Bruce alone. 

Out the window above the sink, Bruce watched as Thor paused only long enough to draw in a visibly deep breath, before he turned the corner and disappeared into the village, his expression stony as he very obviously avoided glancing back at the house. 

“He’ll be fine.” Val told Bruce and, when he turned back to meet her gaze, rolled her eyes slightly. “He just has to be dramatic.” 

“Which one?” Bruce quipped, before he could stop himself, and was rewarded by a delighted bark of laughter from the Valkyrie. 

“Couldn’t tell you.” she rolled her shoulders before sobering, ever so slightly, and spared a glance of her own toward the back room. 

“Take care of him, yeah?” Almost warily, she met Bruce’s gaze out the corner of her eye. “Yourself too.” 

“Yeah, alright.” Bruce coughed slightly and glanced away. “We’ll uh--We’ll see which wins out.” 

“For real.” Val snorted, one of the several Midgardian slang phrases she’d picked up over the past year, and turned on her heel to exit without another word, the sound of the door slamming behind her seeming almost discouragingly final. 

As he watched her stride away out the window, as well, Bruce sighed softly, and began to gnaw at his lip as the reality of the situation really began to set in. 

This _was_ his reality now, he supposed. Stuck in an imposed quarantine with his friend’s miserably ill baby brother, who could be unpredictable, at best, on a good day. 

And, as much as Bruce didn’t want to call things early, he had a suspicion that today wasn’t going to be a “good day”, at all. 

With another huff of a sigh, Bruce tore his gaze away from the window and turned toward the clock above the stove. 10:48 A.M., it read. Probably too early for him to start trying to force lunch on an unwilling victim. 

Which meant that he had several hours to kill, alone in the king of New Asgard’s living room. 

“Shoulda brought reading material.” Bruce muttered, and turned to make his way over to the sofa. 

To his surprise, a well-worn looking book, likely one of Loki’s, sat abandoned on one of the cushions there. His curiosity piqued, Bruce sat gingerly, and picked the tome up to examine the contents. 

Which, of course, were in a language he didn’t understand, and could not hope to identify. 

“Right,” Bruce chuckled humorlessly, only to nearly drop the book as another series of rough coughs rang out through the house. 

_Time to get cozy,_ he thought morosely, and allowed himself a moment to simply run one hand wearily over his face. 

He’d been through worse, Bruce reminded himself. A lot worse. 

Babysitting a sick Norse Deity, in all honesty, didn’t even make the top three. 

\---

As it turned out, babysitting a sick Norse Deity did, in fact, make at _least_ the top ten on the documented list of Worst Days of Bruce Banner’s Life. 

To be fair, the first several hours had been uneventful. While Bruce had dozed on the sofa, slightly fearful that turning the television on for entertainment might spark Loki’s ire, Loki had mainly coughed his way through the morning, the hacking sounding increasingly wet and uncomfortable. 

It wasn’t a heartening fact. If Loki was coughing with that much frequency, it was likely that he was getting little sleep, meaning that his mood was undoubtedly already worse than when Thor had left that morning.

If, Bruce considered dryly, that was even possible. 

By the time 1 o’clock rolled around, and Loki’s coughing had not tapered off at all, the guilt at his own inactivity slowly growing at the back of Bruce’s mind grew unignorable, and he forced himself to stand and enter the kitchen in search of one of the cans of soup Thor had mentioned. 

It was only as he stood studying the variety of soup flavours in one of the kitchen the cupboards that Bruce was struck by the realization that he wasn’t at all aware of what kind of food Loki even liked-- in fact, all he really knew of Loki’s eating habits was that Thor often bemoaned the fact that he ate too _little_. 

The thought did little to encourage him, and Bruce ended up choosing a seemingly harmless looking can of chicken noodle, thinking that Loki could at least sip at the broth, if all else failed. 

It did not take nearly as long as he would have liked for the soup to heat on the stovetop, and Bruce found himself standing before the door to Thor’s bedroom well before he was mentally prepared, a bowl of soup clutched in one hand and a plastic thermometer he had found in one of the kitchen drawers in the other. 

Nevermind the fact that he had absolutely no idea of what Loki’s normal resting temperature was supposed to be. 

“Hey--Loki?” Bruce called, after he had been hovering before the door for what felt like over ten minutes, simply willing himself to enter. “Are--Can I come in?” 

There was no reply (not that Bruce had really anticipated one), and Bruce sighed reluctantly before gritting his teeth, and moving forward to let himself into the room. 

The minute the door was open, it was blatantly obvious to Bruce that Loki had not gotten any sleep. 

A pile of books sat beside the bed, and one lay open in Loki’s lap where he was sat, leaning wearily against the headboard of the bed and watching Bruce’s approach with a stormy expression. 

“Uh--” Bruce staggered to a clumsy halt, nearly dribbling soup on the floor. “Hi. I, uh--I didn’t know if you--” 

“I don’t.” Loki interrupted, his voice significantly hoarser than it had been hours before, and turned his attention to the book in his lap with a poorly concealed sniffle. “Thank you.” 

It was a blatant dismissal, and Bruce felt something within him shrivel slightly at the coolness of the words. 

Regardless, he willed himself to stay in place, even as Loki quirked a dangerously casual brow at his continued presence. 

“I--I promised Thor that I’d have you eat something.” Bruce explained, satisfied at the very least that his voice had remained steady. “It’s just soup, but I could--” 

“I don’t require _soup_.” Loki interrupted again, an edge of frustration sharpening the words, now. 

There was a warning there, Bruce knew. He also knew, however, that Thor would be near frantic with worry, if he came home to the news that Loki had refused to eat the entire time he was away. 

Unfortunately, the thought itself was enough to spur Bruce into taking another small step closer to the bed, even as Loki glanced up to meet his eye with a sharp look. 

“You’re not gonna get any better if you don’t eat.” Bruce pointed out, feeling ridiculously like a nursemaid or a nanny. 

He wondered, a little hysterically, if Loki’s mother (or servants, he considered) had ever told him something similar, when he had been young and ill, and whether or not Loki himself had always been so irritatingly stubborn about the fact. 

Looking at him now, hunched in bed with his curls in wild disarray around an increasingly darkening expression, it wasn’t hard to believe that he had. 

If the words registered to Loki at all, he did not show it. Rather, he simply glanced away to study the wall and pursed his lips. 

“Are you hungry at all?” Bruce pressed, to which, unsurprisingly, he also received no reply. 

_The silent treatment,_ Bruce thought with a mental huff. _Real mature._

Not that he was entirely surprised. For all of his pomp and circumstance, Loki had proven time and again that he had a track record of behaving remarkably like the average, sullen teenager, when irritated or upset. 

Bruce had been witness to several similar episodes on the _Statesman_ , alone. And, though it was often tempting to treat him like a child, in turn, Bruce knew for a fact that Loki responded better when faced with blatant honesty. 

‘God of Lies’, his ass. 

“Look,” Bruce began, and ignored the protesting of his knees as he knelt so that he was eye level with Loki. From this angle, Loki looked almost worse; the circles beneath his still averted eyes stamped dark and deep, and his cheeks still frighteningly flushed. 

And, though he was still at least two feet away, Bruce felt almost as if he could feel the heat of Loki’s fever from where he was crouched. 

“I know you don’t want me here.” he continued, hastily pushing the worry flaring to life at the back of his mind back down for the moment. “And, to be honest, I really don’t want to be here.” 

“Then perhaps you should spare a favor for the both of us,” Loki spoke, suddenly, his tone razor-sharp. “And leave.” 

“ _But_ ,” Bruce continued quickly, “I’m here for Thor.” 

At the mention of his brother, Loki’s expression tightened slightly, and Bruce watched in dismay as his hands tangled together beneath the book in his lap, the fingers of the right moving to pinch with brutal force at the skin atop the left. 

“Spare me your sentiment.” Loki spat hoarsely. “I don’t--” 

He broke off, then, and released the abused hand to lift an arm, and began coughing miserably into the elbow. 

The hacking lasted for several moments and, by the time he was finished, Loki was wheezing audibly, the pale skin at his brow and temples dotted with beads of sweat. 

“I--” he began, only to grunt as his chest hitched with another suppressed cough. 

“The warm soup will help with that.” Bruce murmured, as gently as he could, and extended the bowl in his hand slightly so that it was within Loki’s line of sight. 

For a moment, Loki simply eyed the offering, his jaw clenched visibly as he breathed with forced evenness through his clogged nose. 

Then, to Bruce’s shock, he extended a hand of his own to meet Bruce halfway, his fingertips just brushing the edge of the bowl--

Abruptly, Loki snarled, lunging forward to seize the bowl and, before Bruce could register what was happening, turned sharply to hurl it against the opposite wall with surprising strength. 

The porcelain of the dish shattered spectacularly at once, leaving soup covering not only the far wall, but about every surface surrounding it. 

“I do not require your _help_ , Doctor Banner.” Loki hissed, before Bruce could gather himself enough to do more than gape at the mess. 

And, by the time Bruce turned to face him in continued shock, Loki had turned on his side to face the wall, his back firmly to Bruce and the rest of the room. 

“Leave me.” he muttered, sounding suddenly small and miserable. 

“Wh--what the hell.” Bruce whispered, and staggered unceremoniously to his feet. “What the _fuck_?” 

He’d known Loki to be unpredictable, of course. Had seen his tendency to channel his anger and frustration and _hurt_ toward raging and destroying first hand, in the past. 

This kind of fury, however? This lack of control? 

It reminded Bruce chillingly of the Loki they had faced in New York. 

“Leave me!” Loki repeated harshly, before Bruce could quite recover from that particular revelation. 

For once, Bruce found that he was in complete agreement, and he turned quickly to exit the room without a backward glance. 

After slamming the door behind him with more force than was probably necessary, Bruce collapsed against the wall in the hall opposite, and allowed his eyes to slip closed.

For a moment, he simply breathed, willing his sharp exhales to even out into something a little more like normalcy. 

Just as he was finally managing to calm somewhat, Bruce startled as the cellphone in his pocket buzzed, signalling an incoming text. 

_How’s Loki?_ The screen read, when Bruce drew the device out-- predictably, the message was from Thor. 

Two days, he considered morosely, had never seemed like such a daunting prospect. 

And, to top it all off, Bruce didn’t think that he was imagining the sound of suspiciously hitched breaths coming from the other side of the door across from him. 

\---

For a few hours, Bruce allowed Loki his space, alternating between flipping listlessly through television channels (on this front, his boredom had won out) and cleaning the areas of the kitchen that didn’t look like they had been attended to since the two had built the house and moved in over a year before (for all of Loki’s fussy organization, he clearly did not understand the importance of cleaning out something as simple as the bread cabinet, once in a while). 

In spite of his lingering frustration over his disastrous attempt at lunch, however, Bruce found himself growing slightly concerned when, after a time, Loki’s consistent coughing tapered off into silence. 

And, despite his assumption that Loki had simply finally fallen asleep, Bruce could not quite stop himself from creeping toward Thor’s bedroom and, after hesitating briefly, pressing his ear gently to the wood of the door. 

Almost immediately, he caught the sound of shallow, wheezing snores from the other side of the door, and felt himself release a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

This was good, Bruce reminded himself. It was almost 5 o’clock anyway, and if he let Loki sleep for a few hours, he might be in a much more receptive mood if (when) Bruce offered dinner. 

The thought was not necessarily an inviting one, but one memory of Thor’s despondent expression as he’d left had Bruce already acknowledging to himself that he was going to go through with the plan, regardless. 

His decision made, Bruce moved to draw back from the door, only to pause briefly when, from the other side, he caught a low, almost keening sound. 

For a moment, Bruce stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest as he listened breathlessly for any further sound that might signal that something was amiss inside the room. 

And, after a beat, it came-- almost a whimper, this time, so low and pained that Bruce immediately reached for the doorknob before he had fully registered his intent to do so. 

Inside, the room was dark, the thick curtain having been drawn over the window sometime in the past several hours, and it took Bruce another moment for his eyes to adjust accordingly. 

From the direction of the bed, another groan sounded, followed by a series of wretched coughs. 

And, when Bruce’s eyes finally did adjust, they landed on where Loki was shifting in bed, his features twisted into a grimace and the thick quilt that Thor had wrapped him in earlier now tangled around his legs. 

Even in the semi-dark, Bruce could make out the sweat darkening the collar of his shirt and his hair at the temples, and the white-knuckled grip he had on the sheets below. 

_His nightmares get worse, when he’s ill_. Thor had said, and the words surged to the forefront of Bruce’s mind now, as he watched Loki continue to writhe miserably. 

“Hey,” Bruce murmured, and found himself crouching tentatively beside the head of the bed in spite of the warning bells going off at the back of his mind. “Hey, Loki…” 

When Loki merely twitched, and let out another, breathless sound at the words, Bruce bit the inside of his cheek, and reached out to place a tentative hand on his faintly trembling shoulder. 

“Loki--”

The reaction was instantaneous. Before Bruce could finish the sentence, or manage to draw his hand away, Loki awoke with a strangled gasp, his eyes wide and hair falling like a stringy curtain over his face as he jerked back and eyed Bruce for a long moment, the only sound in the room his sharp, wheezing breaths. 

Then, something in his expression shifted, and he murmured one word, so softly Bruce could hardly hear it. 

“Thor?” 

The quiet hope behind the word was almost painfully fragile, and Bruce felt something within his chest tighten in turn. 

“N--No.” he managed past the sudden thickness at the back of his throat. “I--Loki, it’s Bruce Banner. I--” 

_Remind him where he is._

Bruce inhaled deeply. “You’re in New Asgard,” he informed, as quietly as he could manage. “Thor went to Oslo, remember? He--He’ll be back soon.” 

There was a beat as Loki continued to eye him uncertainly, his breaths coming out in short, breathless gasps. 

Then, abruptly, he fell forward, his shoulders hunched, and exhaled a long breath as he averted his eyes to study the covered window. 

“Of course.” he murmured, his tone surprisingly even for someone who had just woken from a fever dream. “I apologize, Banner.” 

The words were unexpectedly civil-- more like the Loki Bruce had come to know during their better days on the _Statesman_ , and less like the one that had lashed out against him, earlier that afternoon. 

“It--it’s fine.” Bruce stammered, slightly taken aback at the sudden shift. 

“Do--do you want anything?” he continued, and glanced briefly at the empty glass on the bedside table. “Water, maybe?” 

Shit. How long had it been empty? Had Loki had anything to drink since that morning? _Shit_. 

Thor was definitely going to murder him. 

By way of replying, Loki simply shifted to draw the quilt still bunched around his knees up to his shoulders, his hands tangling tightly in the fabric as if in an attempt to stop their trembling. 

If he heard Bruce at all, he gave no indication. Rather, he continued to study the window with a sort of frighteningly vacant stare, eyes hazy and half-lidded. 

The sight made Bruce’s stomach flip slightly, and he took a small step back as he continued to study Loki’s motionless expression. 

“Do you…” he trailed off, and cleared his throat before trying again, “Loki?” 

Unsurprisingly, Loki did not so much as twitch in response, his expression and posture remaining more or less unchanged even as Bruce repeated, “ _Loki_.” 

The sound of a gentle breeze whistling about the house filtered into the room through the window as Bruce hesitated a moment longer; reluctant to leave Loki in such a state, yet unsure of what else he could do to draw him back to the situation at hand. 

The fact that he was hardly familiar with Loki’s typical behavior was not lost on him, and seemed particularly pertinent, in that moment. Sure, they had shared a room, on the _Statesman_ , and Bruce might have even gone so far as to say that they had come to develop a certain, tremulous friendship, in that time. 

But to know Loki well as an individual? It was an entirely different story, and one Bruce himself had not ventured to understand. Loki was an intensely private sort of person, after all, and seemed willing only to allow Thor closer than was strictly necessary. 

And, even then, his acquiescence on that front often seemed reluctant, at best. 

That being said, Bruce was struck suddenly by the realization that perhaps this was normal, for Loki. An hour of instructions given in passing, that morning, was hardly enough preparation for--

Well, for whatever _this_ was. 

Something at the back of Bruce’s mind protested even as he considered the idea. This--This _disassociation_ , for lack of a better term--

That wasn’t “normal” for anyone. 

Regardless, maybe it was what someone like Loki needed, at that moment. To withdraw, and to be given space. 

Space Bruce found himself slightly more willing to provide than was probably appropriate, given the circumstances. 

“I’m--I’m gonna be just outside, okay?” he informed, though he predictably received no reply. “Just--You know where to find me.” 

With that, he turned and began to head for the door, forcibly ignoring the small voice at the back of his mind reminding him that he shouldn’t leave anyone like this. 

Particularly, perhaps, Loki. 

Nevertheless, Bruce pressed on, though he made sure to shut the door behind him much more gently than before, catching one last sight of Loki, unmoved and still studying the window intently, before closing it entirely. 

It was only when Bruce was back in the living room and making himself comfortable on the sofa that he realized, with no small amount of surprise, that the broken dish and discarded soup had been nowhere to be seen, when he’d left. 

\---

It took Bruce the better part of an hour to register that the only way Loki would have been able to clean the shattered porcelain and soup stains from the wall of Thor’s bedroom was with magic, and with it the realization brought a cold wave of dread.

How much magic had Loki performed, in the past several hours? Was he even supposed to be doing magic, while sick? Even knowing as little as he did about the craft and Loki’s own capabilities, somehow Bruce didn’t think that it was advisable for him to be straining himself like that. 

His pulse thrumming sickeningly in his neck, now, Bruce scrambled up from the sofa and, somewhat foolishly, stumbled into the kitchen to check the trash can in the corner of the room-- as if Loki might have somehow snuck out of the bedroom to discard the broken dish there when Bruce wasn’t looking. 

Unsurprisingly, this was not the case, and Bruce felt nearly dizzy with the implications behind that. 

“Okay, Banner.” he murmured, and reached out a hand to grip the edge of the kitchen counter. “Let’s think this through.” 

Loki was powerful, right? Bruce could distinctly remember Thor having proudly referred to him as, “one of the most powerful sorcerers in the Nine Realms” on a number of occasions.

And though Bruce didn’t know just how accurate that claim was, maybe Loki was powerful enough that something as simple as cleaning a stain and broken dish wouldn’t have taken all that much effort. 

Even while as ill as he was. 

As if on cue, a painfully forceful sounding cough echoed through the space, followed by a series of rapid-fire sneezes that had Bruce wincing. 

It also reminded him, belatedly, that while he had seen a clearly utilized box of tissues on the nightstand beside the bed, the wastebasket on the floor beside it had held a distinct lack of discarded tissues, as had the floor itself and the sheets surrounding Loki. 

“Oh, god.” Bruce muttered, his grip on the counter tightening slightly. 

If Loki had spent the past several hours in that room, banishing objects left and right (if that was even the right terminology) with frivolous bursts of magic while still sick?

It couldn’t have been a good sign, and the sound of another breathless round of coughs seemed to confirm the fact. 

Was he making himself worse? Bruce wondered dizzily. Was it worth asking, or would that only ignite Loki’s fury further? 

Or, arguably worse, cause him to withdraw further into himself? 

“Okay,” Bruce breathed, and managed to release the counter in order to stagger back over to his new home on the sofa. “Okay. Just--” 

Abruptly, his phone buzzed on the top of the coffee table where he’d left it, and Bruce winced slightly again when he leaned forward to read the message. 

_any updats?_

It was clear that Thor was distracted, and likely attempting to text without being obvious about it-- hence the typo. 

Distantly, Bruce recalled him saying something about attending a dinner, that evening, and bit the edge of his lip slightly as he mulled the situation over. 

Was this really something worth bothering Thor over? Considering the god’s hair-trigger protective instincts, when it came to his brother, Bruce wasn’t entirely certain he wouldn’t be on the doorstep within the hour, if he did. 

Another wretched cough from the bedroom, however, followed by a muffled _thud_ , like something had been knocked off the bedside table, quickly made Bruce’s mind up for him. 

Even still, it took Bruce another full five minutes before he managed to compose a text that probably wouldn’t spark Thor’s concern too badly. 

Probably. 

_Should Loki be using magic?_ He typed, and quickly hit send before he had the chance to overthink the situation.

With a gust of an exhale, Bruce deflated slightly, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees--

Only for the phone still in his hands to buzz again with a message containing exactly one word. 

_NO_

Before he could manage to even unlock the phone to reply, it was ringing, and Bruce didn’t have to be looking at the screen to know who was calling. 

“Thor--” 

“He’s using magic?” Thor interrupted, his tone deliberately hushed, despite the worry coloring the words. 

And, when Bruce took another minute to listen, he could hear the sound of a number of people chatting in the background of the call-- a fact that made his stomach flip slightly in guilt. 

“I--I--” he huffed, and glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the bedroom. “I don’t really know. It was just--” 

“What’s he doing?” Thor demanded. 

“Uh,” Bruce grimaced. “Sleeping, I think?” 

On the other end of the line, Thor made a slightly frustrated noise beneath his breath. 

“With _magic_.” he elaborated. “What’s he doing with magic?” 

“O--Oh.” Bruce rolled his shoulders, and began to tap out an uneven rhythm on his knee with his free hand. “Uh--He banished a dish?” 

He felt stupid even saying the words, though Thor’s considering hum told him he’d at least gotten the terminology right. 

“It’s not the worst he could be doing.” Thor informed him, after a moment, though he still sounded decidedly put out. “But he shouldn’t really be performing any magic at all, while ill.” 

“Got it.” Bruce agreed quickly, and nodded, though Thor could not see him. “No magic.” 

The guilt over having sent the text at all was quickly returning, and Bruce was suddenly eager for the call to be over.

Thor, it seemed, was experiencing a similar set of emotions. 

“I should have told you.” he bemoaned, the regret evident in his tone. “I apologize, Banner. It--He--” 

“It’s fine.” Bruce dismissed, a little uncomfortable with hearing Thor sound so despondent. “He’s fine.” 

“When he was a child, he would grow bored, when ill, and end up making himself worse attempting to use magic.” Thor told him in a sort of harried rush of words. “He knows his own limits better, now, but…” 

Thor trailed off, then, though Bruce could hear the unspoken words for what they were well enough. 

_He knows his own limits, but rarely heeds them._

“I--I’ll make sure he’s okay.” Bruce promised, when Thor did not continue. “Don’t worry.” 

Thor hummed slightly at the words, and Bruce could easily picture the way he would be squaring his jaw, in an attempt to keep from revealing too much of his emotions through his expression. 

“Thank you, Bruce.” Thor replied, at length. “I truly value your help.” 

“It--It’s no worries.” Bruce dismissed, and raised a hand to scratch at the sudden hotness of his ears. “Take it easy.” 

Thor huffed, though the sound was almost humorless. 

“Of course!” he returned with audibly forced cheer. “I’ll see you soon.” 

With that, Thor ended the call, leaving Bruce alone to sigh again as he fell back to relax against the back of the sofa. 

Almost through day one, he reminded himself. 

Halfway there.

\---

Despite his earlier determination, Bruce did not end up convincing Loki to eat dinner, that evening. 

He did make up another can of soup (tomato, this time, as if a different flavour might convince Loki to be any more amiable to his attempts), and got as far as opening the door to the bedroom with another bowl in hand (plastic, just in case) and a sickening sense of Deja Vu. 

The minute he cracked the door open, however, Bruce’s gaze fell on the bed where Loki was currently curled on his side, facing the door with his features smoothed in an obviously genuine slumber. 

In the end, Bruce’s determination that Loki needed uninterrupted sleep more than a bowl of soup won out, and he ended up swiftly closing the door again, and retreating to the sofa to eat the soup himself. 

It was better than it ending up all over the wall, at any rate, and he didn’t think that Loki was going to be waking, anytime soon. 

True to suspicion, the rest of the evening passed in relative silence, and Bruce found himself growing relatively more relaxed about the situation as a whole, after his meal and a solid couple hours of uninterrupted television. 

He hadn’t heard more than a few coughs from the bedroom since dinner, after all, and Loki’s snores had seemed steady enough, each time he had arisen to check. 

Maybe, Bruce considered with what was probably a bit too much optimism, the sickness had already run its course, and the worst of it was already concluded. 24 hour bugs were common, after all, and it wasn’t beyond belief that Loki might have simply picked one up while out and about in the village, or one of the surrounding towns. 

Entirely plausible. 

It was, of course, right as Bruce was just beginning to believe his own words that the sound of another muffled _thud_ sounded from the bedroom, followed by the unmistakable sound of Loki crying out weakly in his sleep. 

So much for that, Bruce considered wryly, even as he made it from the sofa to the doorway to Thor’s bedroom in what felt like a second. 

“Loki?” he called, and didn’t bother to wait for an answer before moving forward to shove the door open. 

Even from where he was stood in the doorway, Bruce could see the way Loki’s features were twisted in pain in the dark, his breaths leaving him in unsteady pants, occasionally interrupted breathless coughs that, to Bruce’s dismay, sounded far more watery than they had even that afternoon. 

“Loki,” Bruce repeated, and strode across the room without thinking to kneel beside the bed. “Hey. Wake up.” 

The minute Bruce’s hand landed on Loki’s arm, he could feel the heat radiating off of the skin there, and he hissed before rising quickly, again. 

“Shit.” Bruce muttered, immediately turning on one heel to speed out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall. 

“Shit.” he whispered again, realizing he had left the empty glass in the room, before he fell forward to dump the two toothbrushes out of the glass beside the sink onto the counter, and hastily turned the cold tap on full blast. 

He turned to snatch a relatively clean looking washcloth off the hook on the wall behind, and began running it hastily beneath the now icy water. 

When the rag was thoroughly soaked, and the cup half full, Bruce took a moment to simply inhale a deep and steadying breath, before he surged back toward the bedroom with renewed determination. 

When he entered, Loki was in a relatively similar state to the one that Bruce had left him in, save for the fact that he seemed to have relaxed in his movements, slightly, and was now lying on his back, eyes pinched closed and breaths heavy. 

After carefully depositing the glass onto the side table, Bruce fell into a crouch again, and leaned forward to press the cool cloth to the side of Loki’s neck. 

Immediately, Loki tensed, and let out a low, displeased sound as he attempted to wriggle away from the touch. 

“Sorry,” Bruce whispered, and quickly moved the cloth to Loki’s forehead instead, which, thankfully, yielded less of a reaction. 

He forgot, sometimes, that Loki was almost fearfully tentative about being touched. And, particularly in his current state, it could not have been comfortable for someone unfamiliar to be prodding at more sensitive areas. 

The forehead, however, seemed safe, and Bruce was rewarded with a small, appreciative sigh, when he applied the rag with a bit more pressure in relative confidence. 

Which was a relief, right up until Loki opened his mouth, features screwed up, and whimpered, “Thor?” 

“Oh, man.” Bruce muttered, and moved to leverage himself so that he was within Loki’s line of sight. 

“It’s just--it’s just Bruce.” he continued with a wince. “Bruce Banner. You’re in New Asgard, remember?” 

At the words, Loki’s eyes flickered open, and he peered blearily around the room for a moment before his gaze settled unsteadily on Bruce. 

“Thor.” he repeated, a bit more firmly than before. 

Bruce felt himself frown. 

“Bruce.” he corrected gently. “I’m sorry, Loki. Thor’s not here.” 

There was a beat of heavy silence following the declaration, wherein which Loki continued to study Bruce through wide, seemingly uncomprehending eyes. 

Then, he sat bolt upright, and the corners of his mouth twisted down in something almost like horror as he began to heave for breath. 

“Thor.” he repeated, and glanced expectantly at the door to the room as if anticipating that his brother might be there. “ _Where_ is Thor?” 

“I--” Bruce leaned back slightly when, at the sound of his voice, Loki’s wild eyes snapped back to him. “He’s in Oslo, remember Loki? He’ll be back soon.” 

At the words, Loki shook his head, clearly not comprehending, and his breaths began to speed noticeably. 

“Where is he?” he demanded, coughed wetly, then continued, “Where--Thor. _Thor!_ ” 

“Hey!” Bruce cried, and surged up to grip at either of Loki’s shoulders as he nearly lunged out of the bed. “Calm down. Calm down! He’s okay!” 

“Where is he?” Loki repeated, though the words had a distinctly watery quality to them now, and he allowed himself to be maneuvered back so that he was leaning against the headboard again with little trouble. “Th--Thor--” 

To Bruce’s horror, Loki’s next inhale stuttered audibly. 

And, when he glanced up, he found that Loki’s eyes were scrunched tightly shut again, and a fat tear was leaking out the corner of each. 

“Hey, hey.” Bruce soothed, and reached a hand up to automatically begin rubbing at Loki’s shoulder, though the god did not seem to notice the touch at all. “He’s not far. He’ll be back soon. Don’t…” 

Seemingly unhearing, or possibly simply unwilling to hear, Loki’s face pinched further, and he turned slightly to bury half of it into the pillows below. 

His breaths still sounded labored and unsteady, and his nose was audibly clogged, but Bruce was relieved to see that no more tears were visible. 

For the moment, anyway. 

Unwilling to cause discomfort, Bruce retracted his hand from Loki’s shoulder, and instead sat in silence for another moment as Loki continued to wheeze and, occasionally, whimper.

It was clear that he was feeling significantly worse than that morning, and Bruce felt a pang of guilt at his own earlier optimism. 

Maybe Thor had had a point about the whole magic thing. 

“You should probably drink something.” Bruce murmured, at last, and reached out to grab the damp cloth from where it had fallen to the pillows to replace it on Loki’s forehead. 

In reply, Loki merely grunted, his features still pinched into a miserable frown. 

It was a response, however, and Bruce decided to take it as a win. 

“Here,” he continued and, somewhat emboldened by the progress, grabbed the glass and extended it so that it was inches from Loki’s mouth. 

To his surprise, Loki’s eyes opened into thin slits, and he eyed the offering warily for a long moment, as if unsure as to whether or not he could trust it. 

Bruce felt something within his chest tighten slightly at the potential implications behind that, though he quickly shook himself, and logged the information away for consideration at another time. 

“It’s water.” he explained and, struck by a sudden epiphany, drew the glass back to himself to take a short sip of the proffered drink. “See? It’s okay.” 

For a moment, Bruce thought he had misstepped, given Loki’s blank expression as he watched the charade. 

Then, miraculously, he nodded shortly, and extended one violently shaking hand to take the glass. 

Despite his own doubts about Loki’s ability to keep his grip on the cup, Bruce allowed him to take it, knowing that an offer to hold it as Loki sipped would likely not be received well. 

And, eventually, Loki did manage to draw the glass back to himself, and eyed the contents for another moment longer… 

Before downing it in one go. 

“Uh-h--” Bruce stammered, one hand already outstretched in an attempt to stop the action, too late. 

Not, he would concede, that he would have preferred that Loki reject the water entirely. But, in this case, a little moderation might have been advisable. 

“Okay,” Bruce soothed, when Loki turned to give him a sharp, confused sort of look, the rag on his brow slipping to land on his shoulder with a wet _plop_. “Great job. Uh--Here.” 

He scooped the glass out of Loki’s loosening grip when it seemed it was about to topple to the floor, and gently placed it on the bedside table. 

Loki, seemingly exhausted from his brief outburst, leaned back and watched the movement through a half-lidded gaze, his hands still trembling faintly against the dark of the quilt pooled around his waist. 

“Okay,” Bruce repeated quietly. “Try and rest, okay? Th--” 

He cut himself off abruptly, slightly fearful that bringing Thor’s name up again, even in reassurance, might trigger more anxiety. 

Blessedly, Loki did not seem to catch the brief slip, and he averted his gaze a moment later to study the wall behind Bruce, even as his eyelids continued to flutter. 

“Just rest.” Bruce repeated, a little frantically, and, when he was sure that Loki’s eyes were closed entirely, fell against the wall on the opposite side of the bedside table with a burst of an exhale. 

This was fine, he reminded himself. He’d gotten Loki to at least drink something, which would probably help with the confusion. He just needed to give it time. This--

From the bed, Loki let out a low grunt and shifted, bringing Bruce’s thoughts to an abrupt halt and causing him to freeze slightly. 

There was a beat, then two. 

Then, to Bruce’s horror, the unmistakable sound of a gag. 

Before he had even registered his intention to do so, Bruce was falling forward to scoop the wastebasket from the floor, and half-collapsed against the side of the bed with just enough time to lift it high enough for Loki to reach. 

Immediately, Loki fell forward, his face drained of all color and eyes wide, and began retching into the bin, his hands shaking badly as they came up to grip either side tightly. 

“That’s okay.” Bruce whispered, and fought the urge to raise a hand to rub it soothingly along Loki’s shoulders. 

He knew that he personally hated vomiting-- or had, before the Hulk had all but made such illness impossible. It was a distinct loss of control, and one that always left him feeling unsteady and oddly isolated. 

He imagined, for someone like Loki, who he knew hated nothing more than having control taken from him-- and who was likely already experiencing similar emotions on a relatively regular basis… 

The experience had to be unimaginably worse for him. 

“It’s okay.” Bruce continued, slightly shaken himself at the thought, and raised a hand to rest on the blanket beside Loki’s side as he continued to heave. 

Not touching, just there. 

Just in case. 

“You’re okay. You’re fine.”

Eventually, Loki stilled and, after he had spat the last mouthful of phlegm into the bin, exhaled a weak, dry sob. 

“Hey, no.” Bruce said softly, and turned to place the bin on the ground behind himself, when he was sure that Loki was finished. “Don’t. It’s gonna be--” 

“Where--” Loki hiccuped, and glanced frantically about the room. “Where--Where is--”

He broke off, then, and raised a trembling hand to press it tightly over his mouth, his next breaths harsh and quick through his still clogged nose. 

He coughed fiercely, then, and what little color his cheeks had regained drained dramatically. 

“Calm down.” Bruce commanded, as steadily as he could manage. “Loki…” 

“Th--Thor.” Loki whimpered past his hacking and, pinching his eyes shut again, rocked forward to hide his mouth behind both hands, now. “Where--Where--” 

The words were little more than breathless gasps, and Bruce felt his stomach swoop in panic at the sound. 

Loki was dangerously close to breaking down, and Bruce wasn’t at all sure what he would do, if that happened. 

“It’s fine.” he reassured, probably uselessly. “He’s fine. He--” 

_Call me if you need to._

Bruce blinked, and automatically reached for where his phone was nestled in the pocket of his jeans. 

Maybe… 

“Hey,” Bruce spoke suddenly, and fought not to draw back when Loki’s eyes immediately snapped to meet his, again. “I--I can call him, if you want.”

He produced the phone, and extended it in one open palm for Loki to see. 

Hopefully, Bruce considered distantly, Loki was not so far gone that he would not recognize the device for what it was. 

“Do you want me to call him?” Bruce prodded, when Loki simply continued to eye the phone, and decidedly did not consider what might happen if they did call, and Thor didn’t answer. 

Another beat passed, wherein which the only sound in the room was Loki’s still harsh, hiccuping breaths leaving him with alarming speed. 

Then, he nodded, ever so slightly, before hastily falling forward to bury his face behind his knees as he began to cough wetly. 

“Alright,” Bruce nodded, and moved to stand and fall back a small step. “Okay.” 

Bruce nearly fumbled the phone as he pulled up Thor’s number, and could feel his hand shaking as he brought it up to his ear and allowed his eyes to slip briefly closed. 

_Answer, buddy._ He willed after the second ring, and felt more than saw Loki’s gaze peering up at him from the bed. _Please, answer._

“Bruce?” 

“Thor!” Bruce cried, and let out a sort of hysterical huff of laughter as his eyes flew open. “It’s Bruce.” 

There was a pause, then, “What’s wrong?” 

Thor’s tone was decidedly unimpressed, not to mention notably anxious, and Bruce was quick to reply. 

“Nothing!” he reassured and, when he glanced at the bed, found Loki’s wide and slightly damp eyes trained firmly on him, his dark curls still half concealing his pale features. “Nothing, just--” 

“Is Loki well?” Thor interrupted, and definitely sounded frantic, now. 

“He’s fine.” Bruce replied, then paused, a little unsure of how much he could share, without wounding Loki’s likely already fragile pride. 

Or causing Thor to worry more than necessary. 

“He, uh--” Bruce continued, and cast a brief glance at Loki before turning, slightly, and muttering into the phone, “He’s a little upset.”

“What happened?” Thor inquired, and Bruce could tell even without seeing him that he was willing himself to be patient. 

“H--His fever rose. Just a little!” he was quick to inform, when Thor made an audibly distressed noise on the other end of the line. “And--” 

Bruce hesitated, and pointedly avoided Loki’s gaze with a wince as he added, barely audible, “And he threw up. I think it shook him up pretty badly.” 

It felt a little ridiculous, like he was updating Thor on the state of a child, rather than a significantly powerful being that was capable of killing each of them with little more than a look. 

Nevertheless, Thor let out a little gust of an exhale at the words, and there was a long moment of considering silence before Bruce received an answer. 

“Can I talk to him?” 

“Uh, yeah!” Bruce replied immediately, and turned back to where Loki was currently sneezing into his elbow. “Yeah, uh--Here.” 

He knelt again, and extended the phone when Loki managed to peer at him again through red-rimmed eyes. 

“It’s Thor.” Bruce reminded quietly, and brandished the phone a bit. “Do you…” 

At the sound of his brother’s name, the corners of Loki’s mouth turned down, again, and he hesitated briefly before slowly, almost tentatively, taking the phone from Bruce’s hand and placing it to his ear. 

“Thor?” 

Loki’s voice came out so raspy it was almost unrecognizable, though Thor certainly didn’t have any trouble, if the faint reply Bruce could hear from the other end of the line was any indication. 

“Loki!” he cried, sounding equal parts relieved and terrified. “Are you alright?” 

It seemed, for a moment, that the words were too much for Loki to comprehend, and he simply sat, jaw trembling and shoulders hunched, for another long moment. 

Then, to Bruce’s dismay, Loki’s expression crumpled entirely, and he fell forward to bury his face in his knees again with a choked sob, as if Bruce wasn’t there at all. 

And, for all Bruce knew, maybe to Loki he wasn’t. 

“Hey,” Bruce could just make out Thor’s low murmur from the phone still clutched tightly within Loki’s grip. “Loki, it’s alright. _Breathe_ , Loki.” 

“I--” Loki gasped, and barked another harsh sob. “I--I hate--”

“I know,” Thor soothed, immediately. “I know you do. I know it’s hard. Deep breaths, remember. Like always.” 

Something within Bruce’s stomach twisted slightly at the words, and felt suddenly as if he shouldn’t be seeing this, at all. Like it was a ritual too intensely familiar and private for him to be privy to. 

To his surprise, Loki seemed to make an effort to follow the instructions; his next breaths sounding slightly steadier than they had since he had awoken earlier, even as his face remained hidden. 

“Good job.” Thor praised, as if sensing the same thing. “That’s good. Can you tell me where you are?” 

“H-Home.” Loki managed to croak, and the hand not holding the phone moved to tangle in the quilt laid out atop him. “Norway. New A--Asgard.” 

“Good.” Thor repeated, though Bruce could pick up on a decidedly worried undercurrent running just beneath the words. “Just keep breathing.” 

And, though he appeared to try mightily to obey, Bruce watched as Loki’s shoulders hitched, once, twice, before he released another guttural exhale. 

“Wh--When--” he hiccuped breathlessly. “Wh--Th--”

“Shh.” Thor soothed, his tone audibly pained. “Shush, Lo. That’s alright.” 

Immediately, Loki shook his head, his knuckles white around his grip on the blanket, now, and gasped, “When--” 

“Soon.” Thor interrupted gently. “As soon as I can, okay? You’re going to be okay.” 

Loki didn’t seem to have a reply to that, so he simply shifted to hug his knees with one arm and hummed lowly. 

“I promise.” Thor added. “Drink water, alright?” 

Loki hummed again and, when it was clear that he wasn’t going to say anything, the sound of Thor sighing could just be made out. 

“I’ll be back soon.” he reassured.

Then, so quietly Bruce could hardly hear it at all, “Love you. Alright?” 

In response, Loki’s shoulders stuttered, and he muttered something that might have been, “Alright.”, before hastily extending the phone back in Bruce’s direction without looking up. 

After pausing only a moment, Bruce took the proffered phone, and cast Loki one last concerned glance before he stood and pressed it to his ear. 

“Thor?” 

“Is--” Bruce could just catch the sound of Thor’s tremulous exhale on the other end of the line. 

“Is he okay?” 

“Yeah,” Bruce nodded. “He’s--I think he’s doing better.” 

It wasn’t a lie, necessarily. Though Loki had not uncurled from his position at all, his breaths were notably more even, and he was no longer quaking quite as violently. 

“Is he breathing alright?” Thor pressed. 

“Yeah.” Bruce was quick to reply. 

He knew, especially now, that if he answered otherwise, Thor would likely be on his way home before the call ended. 

He also knew that, in hindsight, Thor would never forgive himself if he was the reason the trade deal did not succeed. 

Therefore, it was with an optimism Bruce did not at all feel that he continued, “Yeah. Much better.”

There was a beat, before Thor exhaled again, somewhat steadier this time, and Bruce could practically envision him nodding in an attempt to steady himself. “Alright. You’ll--” 

“I’ll call again if anything changes.” Bruce promised on a murmur. “Good luck tomorrow.” 

At the reminder of the meeting, Thor hummed slightly, though the sound was not an enthusiastic one. 

“Thank you, Bruce.” he replied, and ended the call before Bruce could reply. 

Bruce frowned, and took his time replacing the phone in his pocket before he turned back to the bed. 

If anything, the only change in Loki’s posture seemed to have been him curling ever so slightly further in on himself, though his breaths were so slow and even, now, that Bruce might have believed he was asleep. 

Might have, had he not known that Loki likely wanted solitude more than anything else, right now, and had seen him feigning sleep enough on the _Statesman_ in hopes of a similar outcometo know what it looked like. 

And, Bruce considered with a sinking sense of finality, he might have let it go entirely, were he not so hesitant to leave Loki alone at all, now. Not after what he’d just witnessed. 

Not when Loki so very clearly needed his brother, and Bruce could not provide that. 

“I’m just--” Though Loki had not so much as glanced up, Bruce gestured vaguely over his shoulder at the stuffed chair that sat in the corner of the room. “I’m--Do you need anything?” 

Predictably, he received no answer, though he still felt slightly useless at the thought of simply sitting in the corner of the room while Loki was still--

Well, _this_. 

For lack of anything better to do, Bruce snagged the empty glass from the bedside table, and cast another quick glance over his shoulder before hastening for the bathroom sink. 

In the time it took Bruce to fill the glass and make it back to the bedroom, Loki had somehow managed to shift to his side, his back to the rest of the room, and seemed to be continuing in his efforts to appear as genuinely asleep as possible. 

Which might have been believable, save for the occasional hitching of his breath. 

Bruce huffed at the sight, and placed the glass of water as gently as he could onto the nightstand. 

“Small sips.” he reminded quietly, before heading for the chair at the corner of the room. 

The chair was smaller than Bruce would have anticipated, for a piece of furniture in Thor’s room, and it took him almost a full minute to find a position that was relatively comfortable.

From across the room, Loki’s breaths had begun to sound almost more like snores, and Bruce felt something within himself, having been held tight and tense for what felt like hours now, finally loosen minutely in turn. 

And, though he had made up his mind to stay awake for at least an hour longer, Bruce was surprised to find his lids already drooping dramatically, the minute he relaxed against the arm of the chair. 

In minutes, his head was nodding, and the last thing Bruce was totally aware of was the moonlight creeping in through the window past the curtains, and the soft sound of Loki’s shallow snores echoing through the space. 

\---

The sound of a door slamming shut woke Bruce an indeterminable amount of time later, and for a brief, wildly hopeful moment, he thought that he had slept clear through the next morning, and that Thor might have been returning. 

When he managed to pry his eyes open, however, Bruce was somewhat stunned to find the same patch of moonlight still streaming in through the window, landing on--

Bruce froze, and felt his very heartbeat still within his chest in tandem. 

On the bed, which was currently empty, save for the tangled mess of sheets and blankets that Loki had previously been nestled beneath. 

“Shit!” Bruce hissed, and was out of his chair and across the room in seconds. 

Maybe, he thought a bit wildly, Loki was just in the bathroom. It was right across the hall, after all, and that could have easily explained the slamming door Bruce had heard earlier. 

Bruce’s optimism was short-lived, however, for the second he staggered into the hall it was painfully obvious that the darkened bathroom, its door still wide open, was empty. 

“Ohh,” Bruce moaned, and ran a hand through his thoroughly mussed curls. “Oh, this is bad. This--”

He broke off, then, as his gaze zeroed in on the front door. 

Or, more specifically, the window to the right of the front door, through which he could see a very familiar figure, sat on the front porch and very nearly bent in half.

“O--Oh!” Bruce gasped, before falling forward to practically sprint for the front door, and fumbled with the knob for only a moment before the door swung open, and he stumbled out into the crisp early morning air. 

“Loki!” he cried, and turned swiftly to face where Loki was still perched on the very edge of the porch, his gaze not on Bruce, but on the cliffs several hundred yards away from the house. 

Still breathing rather heavily, it took Bruce a moment to realize that Loki was muttering something to himself, so low the exact words were indistinguishable beneath the gentle breeze whistling about them.

And, even then, it was another moment before Bruce was able to register that Loki was definitely hyperventilating. 

“Shit,” Bruce breathed, and did not allow himself time to reconsider the action before he was hopping off the porch, and striding forward to kneel before where Loki was hunched. 

“Hey,” Bruce murmured, and fought back a grimace when his gaze fell to where Loki was currently pinching fiercely again at the skin atop his left hand. 

If Loki registered his presence at all, it was difficult to tell, given that his gaze remained trained listlessly on the cliffside behind Bruce as he rocked ever so slightly in place. 

From here, Bruce could just make out the words Loki was continuing to murmur, and his stomach dropped immediately when he did. 

“Stop,” Loki whispered past another gulped, shallow inhale. “Please. Please stop.”

Tears leaked out the corners of his eyes, then, and spilled past his quivering lips. 

“Please don’t.” Loki continued hoarsely, “Don’t--don’t touch--”

Bruce swallowed, and bit his lip roughly when it seemed that the ground had begun to rock unsteadily beneath him as the words registered. 

“Alright, Loki.” he managed, after a moment, rather than calling attention to the pleas, just yet. “I’m gonna need you to look at me. Can you do that?” 

For a moment, it didn’t seem that Loki had heard him at all, and he continued to murmur and rock, eyes vacant and detached. 

Then, entirely unexpectedly, Loki’s gaze snapped to Bruce’s face, his eyes almost startlingly wide as they scanned his features almost desperately. 

“Alright,” Bruce nodded shallowly, and fought the urge to recoil. “That’s great. I need you to breathe with me now, okay? Like this.” 

He inhaled deeply once, and waited until Loki’s expression shifted into something almost like comprehension before he released the breath. 

“Can you do that?” he whispered. “Just like me.” 

“I--” Loki shook his head sharply, and his next inhale was little more than a gasp as several stray tears made their way down his face. “I can’t--” 

“You can.” Bruce interrupted, not unkindly. He paused, then added softly, “Let me help you.”

There was a beat, before Loki, his chest spasming slightly as he continued to choke on his next inhale, jerked an unsteady nod. 

Bruce’s own next exhale was little more than a relieved burst of breath, and he found himself returning the nod before continuing, “Just follow my lead, okay? In with me.” 

In truth, Bruce had found himself in the position of having to give similar instructions several times, in the past, and he felt himself slip into the role again with surprising ease. 

Even as Loki continued to watch him as if he was the only thing tethering him to the current moment-- a terrifying concept, at best. 

Regardless, Bruce inhaled slowly again and, after a beat, Loki tremulously mimicked the breath. 

“Good job.” Bruce whispered as evenly as he could manage, remembering Thor’s earlier praise. “And in again. With me.” 

To his surprise, Loki followed the command almost automatically, and was able to hold the next inhale for as long as Bruce did, before they exhaled simultaneously. 

“Great.” Bruce found that the encouraging smile stretching his face was not entirely ingenuine. 

Nor was the relief flooding his system as Loki continued to calm. 

“Great job.” 

They spent the next several minutes following a similar pattern; Bruce breathing as evenly as he could manage, and Loki following with an almost painfully transparent trust creasing his expression. 

It was something Bruce had rarely seen, if ever, and he found himself suddenly determined not to abuse the privilege. 

Eventually, Loki’s breaths evened out, and a comprehension that had not been there before returned to his eyes, followed by a small crinkle of his still red nose and--

Yeah, there it was. A sharp frown. 

“Loki?” Bruce inquired, and leaned in slightly further to catch Loki’s now pointedly averted gaze. “Are you--” 

“I’m quite well.” Loki whispered, his voice still raw and wretched but so distinguishably _Loki_ that Bruce felt another strong wave of relief well within him at the sound of it. “Thank you, Doctor Banner. I apologize for my--my previous outburst.” 

“Hey, no.” Bruce shook his head with a small frown of his own, and moved to take a tentative seat on the porch beside Loki. 

Somehow, he didn’t think he’d be rebuffed, right now. 

“There--There’s no need for apology.” Bruce shrugged. “You’re sounding better. I’m glad.” 

He didn’t think he’d imagined the brief flicker of surprise on Loki’s features, though he decided not to draw attention to the fact, and instead pressed, “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m--” Loki cut off, and turned sharply to face the opposite direction, his posture decidedly tense. 

He did not continue, however, and Bruce found himself humming slightly in sympathy. 

Not great, then.

“That’s fine.” he replied, as soothingly as he could manage. “That can take it out of you. I get it.” 

There was a brief pause, wherein the only sound between them was the wind still whipping lowly along the cliffs, and the distant waves crashing below. 

Then, Loki hummed and, still not meeting his eyes, began, “How--How did--”

He faltered, and made a slightly frustrated sound at the back of his throat, though Bruce didn’t necessarily need him to continue to hear the question for what it was. 

“How’d I know what to do?” he pressed gently. And, when Loki did not reply beyond a noncommittal hum, continued, “I’ve, uh--I’ve had some practice.”

When silence was his only reply, Bruce hesitated before pressing, his voice almost a whisper, “Did--Does Thor do that for you?”

The breathing exercises were not necessarily a rarity, and Bruce knew better than to be surprised at the idea of Thor knowing to conduct them, at all. 

Particularly if this was something that happened with Loki often. 

At the words, Loki’s jaw clenched slightly, though he offered a small, jerking nod after another minute, his gaze now trained almost ashamedly on the ground beneath his sock clad feet. 

And, though to any outside party he might have appeared irritated at the question, Bruce was close enough to note the embarrassment coloring his cheeks ever so slightly, where the fever was not.

Something within Bruce warmed slightly at the knowledge, though he quickly shelved it for consideration at a later date, and turned his attention back to the situation at hand. 

Specifically, the shame twisting Loki’s features as the silence stretched on between them. 

“I--I have a friend.” Bruce offered, then. “He gets panic attacks, sometimes. We--we have a routine.” 

He huffed a small ghost of a laugh before tacking on, “You might know him.” 

Immediately, Loki’s head came up, and he turned to shoot Bruce a sharp, inquisitive look. 

Definitely interested then, if not outright surprised. Bruce wondered briefly if this--these panic attacks were a new thing, or if Loki had been dealing with them for a long while now, and this was one of the first times he had ever heard of another experiencing something similar. 

Bruce felt a jolt of genuine remorse at the thought, and he found himself offering Loki more information without really thinking about it. 

“Tony?” he informed with another dry chuckle. “Y’know--” 

“Stark?” Loki interrupted, his brow slightly furrowed and tone inarguably bewildered. 

“Yeah,” Bruce nodded. “The very same.”

“But--” Loki shook his head slightly, his curls bouncing. “Why would--Stark is a warrior. A prince of your realm.” 

“Uh, sure.” Bruce huffed, and made a mental note to fill Tony in on the _‘prince’_ thing, later. “Wait--” 

He frowned slightly at Loki’s continued perplexed expression. 

“You’re saying ‘warriors’ can’t get panic attacks?” Bruce pressed, after a moment, and felt no satisfaction when Loki glanced uncomfortably away. “What? That--” 

“It is weakness.” Loki informed him, his tone brooking no room for argument. 

“Bullshit.” Bruce spat, before he could stop himself, and was rewarded by a clearly startled look from Loki. 

“What--” 

“Anyone can be affected by something.” Bruce interrupted sternly, despite his best efforts to keep his tone under control. “Do you know what bothers Tony? What causes most of his attacks?” 

Loki looked decidedly uncomfortable, though he continued to hold Bruce’s gaze, his hands fidgeting between his knees, now. 

At least the pinching had stopped, Bruce thought humorlessly. 

“It’s the wormhole.” Bruce informed, and had only a fleeting thought that sharing such information with someone as unpredictable as Loki (and their ex-rival, on top of that) might have been spectacularly stupid. “Or was. The wormhole in New York.” 

Immediately, Loki stilled, before glancing away with an expression so almost like guilt that Bruce had to take a moment to reevaluate the situation entirely. 

“Are you saying that what he did that day--what he was willing to sacrifice...That wasn’t something a ‘warrior’ would do? Or might be affected by?” 

Loki winced, ever so slightly. “I am not--” he inhaled, and swallowed thickly before trying again, “I do not--”

“Y’know,” Bruce interrupted, “I still don’t know the whole story between you and Thor.” 

Though he did not turn, Loki’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the words, and his breaths grew slightly more ragged in the continued silence. 

“Or what happened, after you left Asgard.” Bruce continued, after a beat. 

He’d heard, of course, that Loki had ‘fallen’ (he had his own speculations about the details Thor had skirted uncomfortably around while relaying that particular series of events), and how he had miraculously reappeared on Earth a year later, wielding the Tesseract and a magical scepter. 

What had transpired during that ‘gap year’, however… 

Bruce wasn’t entirely sure even Thor knew. 

Something about Loki’s muttered words earlier, however; so similar to those he had cried out in his sleep on the _Statesman_ , the few times he had been unable to stop himself, and Bruce had been awake to hear them… 

There was something else at play there, Bruce was certain. 

How much Loki was willing to reveal, however? An entirely different story. 

As it was, Bruce got the distinct feeling he had only been as willing to talk as much as he already had because of the fever still running its course through his system. 

“Thor doesn’t talk about it.” Bruce continued, when it was clear that Loki was not going to offer a reply. “But he has said that, in New York, you were nearly unrecognizable.” 

He paused, then added, “‘Like talking to a stranger’, he said.”

Loki’s breaths were harsh again, now, his shoulders tensed nearly to his ears as Bruce continued to speak. 

And, normally, Bruce might have eased off, and allowed the conversation to die out before Loki managed to work himself up, again. 

Something about his previous words, however… 

_It is weakness._

No. Bruce steeled himself. This was a conversation that needed to be had, and probably should have been broached a long time ago. 

“I--I’m not expecting you to tell me anything you don’t want to.” he murmured, at length. “But, if I were guessing, I’d say that it would take something pretty significant to change a person that thoroughly.” 

Beside him, Loki was so still it was questionable if he was even breathing, save for the faint trembling of his hands where they were still clung together between his knees. 

His answer, therefore, was surprisingly steady, when it finally did come. 

“You are surprisingly astute, Doctor Banner.” he murmured, eyes now turned up as he seemed to study the overhang of the roof above them. 

A small laugh was startled out of Bruce before he could stop it. 

“That was almost a compliment.” he warned. 

“For a mortal.” Loki tacked on, and managed a sort of half-smile, half-grimace.

It was an unmistakable end to the conversation, though Bruce couldn’t say that he was particularly surprised, nor disappointed. 

They’d come further than he would have ever expected, after all. 

The almost comfortable silence was broken, then, as Loki’s expression twisted, and he fell forward to muffle a series of coughs into his elbow, his shoulders trembling with the effort. 

“Oh--” Bruce extended a hand to hover awkwardly between them, though he allowed Loki to continue hacking without interruption. 

When Loki finally did reemerge, his cheeks were flushed again, and his eyes were red and decidedly damp. 

Definitely still feverish, then. 

“Hey, man.” Bruce ventured when Loki began to shiver almost violently. “It’s cold out here. Do you--” 

“Just--” Loki gasped, and turned to shoot him a brief, almost pleading look, before his gaze drifted to the stars studding the clear, dark sky above them. “Just a moment more.” 

The words were not a question, nor were they a request, though Bruce found himself nodding anyway. 

“Alright,” he agreed, and felt his heart twist slightly when Loki relaxed almost immediately at the word, his eyes fluttering briefly before he continued to study the stars. 

“Okay.” Bruce whispered as he followed Loki’s gaze and, possibly for the first time since the morning before, felt almost entirely at ease. 

“Just a moment.” 

\---

Late the following morning, Bruce exhaled a weary sigh as he stood before the stove, and watched as the third kettle for tea he had prepared in that morning alone slowly began to simmer. 

Following the time they had spent out on the front porch (nearly two hours, despite Bruce’s concern over the increasing violence of Loki’s trembling), Bruce had been able to lead an obviously sleepy Loki back to Thor’s bedroom with little trouble. 

And, surprisingly, he had remained there for the better part of the following several hours, waking only to sip tentatively at the glass of water that had been left on the nightstand and, once morning had dawned, the haphazardly prepared cup of tea Bruce had offered. 

If Loki’s enthusiasm at the offered beverage was anything to go by, Bruce was relatively certain that he was nearing the end of his illness. 

That being said, a low grade fever had remained well into the morning, and Loki had been far too compliant to Bruce’s instructions to remain in bed for Bruce to believe that they were entirely out of the woods, just yet. 

However, Loki had seemed well enough to continue to (offhandedly, as if the answer would not bother him either way) request further mugs of tea, following the first, which left Bruce where he was now; hovering in front of the stove and, somewhat selfishly, wondering if Loki might be willing to take a (probably needed) nap soon and allow him a few moments to recuperate, himself. 

Not, Bruce would concede, that he was anything but thoroughly relieved at Loki’s continued improvement. 

Particularly because it (finally) gave him some positive news to send Thor’s way. 

As if on cue, a muffled thump sounded from the direction of the front door, and Bruce had only a moment to turn and glance over his shoulder before the door burst open to reveal Thor himself, eye wide and bag carelessly tossed halfway into the entryway at his feet. 

“Uh--” Bruce blinked, and shook his head slightly in bewilderment even as Thor strode confidently into the space. “Uh--Thor. What--” 

“Is he alright?” Thor cut in, practically quivering with pent up tension. 

Bruce blinked again, before nodding hastily. 

“Uh, yeah. Yes!” he repeated, when Thor’s eye began to flicker uncertainly between Bruce and the closed door to his bedroom. “He--He’s a lot better, Thor. Did you--Didn’t you get my messages?” 

He had, for the most part, omitted the more dramatic details of the evening prior in his texts that morning, and had simply told Thor that, while Loki had had a somewhat rough night, he was definitely improving, and would likely sleep through the afternoon. 

That being said, even in spite of his own confusion, Bruce immediately felt the muscles of his shoulders relax minutely at Thor’s presence, an inarguable hope rising within his chest as registered that Thor was actually there. 

And, to his surprise, that relief had less to do with the sudden lack of responsibility on his own shoulders, and more with the fact that Thor’s presence might finally bring Loki the grounding he had needed since his brother had departed, the morning before. 

“I did.” Thor confirmed with a distracted sort of nod. “But--But I--” 

“I get it.” Bruce interrupted and, when Thor turned to face him with a somewhat startled look, offered a small smile. 

Then, abruptly, the reality of the situation caught up with him, and he sobered somewhat. 

“The--The meeting.” Bruce shook his head slightly. “What about--” 

“Was this morning.” Thor shrugged. “We left just after. I--I suppose I should have texted, but--” 

“It’s fine.” Bruce paused, before jerking his head in the general direction of the bedroom door over his shoulder. “Do you want to…” 

He trailed off, though Thor’s features stilled almost immediately as his gaze locked on the door Bruce had indicated. 

“He--” Thor swallowed. “Is he awake?” 

“I--I think so?” Bruce huffed. “Only one way to find out.” 

There was a beat, before Thor’s features smoothed, and he extended a hand to place it firmly on Bruce’s shoulder. 

“Banner,” he cleared his throat and, furrowing his brow, met his gaze evenly. “I--I truly appreciate--” 

“Ah,” Bruce raised a hand to grip loosely at Thor’s wrist. “It’s nothing, buddy. Why don’t you--”

He pictured Loki suddenly, either half-asleep or sat up in bed and eyeing the door in poorly concealed hope as Thor’s voice echoed through the house, and felt his heart twist slightly. 

“It’s cool.” Bruce shook his head, and offered Thor a small smile. “You should probably…” 

He allowed himself to trail off again, though Thor seemed to take the hint well enough, if the blatant hope sparking to life behind his gaze was any indication. 

It was with a small nod, and without another word, therefore, that Thor hastened out of the kitchen, and hesitated before the door to his bedroom only briefly before quickly pushing it open. 

Inside, Loki was indeed sitting up and facing the door expectantly, and his expression smoothed into something unreadable when Thor burst into the room. 

Even from where he was still stood in the kitchen, Bruce was able to see the way Thor’s expression spasmed, before he strode forward to all but fall to his knees beside the bed where Loki was still sat. 

And, as Bruce watched out the corner of his eye, Loki eyed his brother for another long moment through a wide, watery gaze--

Before his features abruptly crumpled, and he fell forward to be scooped readily into Thor’s already open arms. 

“ _Loki_ ,” Thor’s breathless whisper was just barely audible, and Bruce watched as he raised a hand to gently cup the back of Loki’s head. 

“You’re alright, brother.” Thor soothed. “I’m here.”

It was only as Loki’s shoulders began to tremble, and he raised a visibly quivering hand to grip the back of Thor’s shirt tightly, that Bruce turned quickly on one heel, and made to exit the house.

He had a feeling he would hear more about the morning’s meeting soon enough— likely from the Valkyrie, who was more than likely somewhat irritated at Thor’s race to return to the village. 

Nevertheless, Bruce found himself closing the front door to Thor’s home somewhat optimistically; confident not only that Loki was in the best hands possible, now, but also in the fact that something within his own relationship with the younger Odinson, however small, had shifted for the better. 

It wasn’t a lot, but Bruce had learned better than to anticipate the development of any sort of linear, conventional relationships within this sort of odd, disjointed group of vagabonds he’d somehow found himself involved with, over the past few years. 

And, to be completely honest, Bruce found that he did not mind in the slightest. 

**Author's Note:**

> i love Bruce Banner !!!! so much !!
> 
> (also @ the anon who sent this prompt; i literally had an almost identical concept in mind to write for months before your message, so how does it feel to be psychic?) (also ty!)
> 
> come hmu on [tumblr !](http://littlekinng.tumblr.com) xx 


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